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Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Ithelus gets up and collects his weapons, trying hard not to vomit a second time as he pulls his throwing knife from the Ungor's corpse. He sheathes the weapons after wiping and then moves to the second cart.

'Well, I'm all for just getting out of here, blood smells bad. Real bad.'

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Seth, at the suggestion of retrieving Jurgen, raises an eyebrow. "Mm...yes, I think it will prove worthwhile to fetch 'im. A man who's known the shame of cowardice is likely to shy from it in the future. And I reckon his firm grip on his flask may be found lax after today." With the most mirthful face he can manage while still wincing in pain, the squire guides his horse around and charges off.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Heading back along the road at a canter, it didn’t take the squire long to catch up with the fleeing coachman – a lifetime behind a pair of horses had not been the best cross-country training, and the bearded man was wheezing and stumbling as he ran.

At the sound of hooves, he looked fearfully over his shoulder, staggering to a relieved halt as he made out Adelbert’s face.

“Thank Sigmar,” he said, stumbling back towards the slowing rider. “I thought I was the only one who made it out alive. Don’t suppose there’s space for another on the back of your horse, there? We’ve got to make it back to the village before nightfall. Morr knows how many more of those things there are out there.”

Seth smiled – Jurgen looked up at him in confusion. Explaining, the squire watched with some small amount of satisfaction as the man’s bearded face took on a profoundly uncomfortable expression.

“’Course... I didn’t doubt ye, you know. Just thought I wouldn’t be much use... better off getting help...”

His mumbles trailed off into silence.

“S’pose we’d better be getting on for Delberz, then.”

[hr]

With the soldier’s best attempts at field dressings in place, the caravan got back on the road; Jurgen was back at the reins of his wagon with his eyes cast down. The rattling carts left the headless corpses of their attackers lying where they had fallen - until the creatures’ bodies were well out of sight, Seth’s injured horse struggled to keep up with the carthorses, who showed a tendency to rise to a trot without prompting.

They travelled for the most part in silence, eyes now fixed intently on the treeline – no further attackers appeared, the shadows beneath the branches staying resolutely empty. After several hours, the quality of the road began to improve, becoming broader and flatter. The sun was dipping low in the sky by the time the trees began to thin, long shadows dragging behind them.

Ahead, the trees cleared: the fields around Delberz stretched out in unbroken swathes of bare brown, their harvest already stripped from the soil to wait out the coming winter. The road cut a reasonably straight path between the muddy furrows, headed straight towards the centre of the great town that sprawled between the caravan and the river. Above the myriad roofs and chimneys, two tall buildings reared their heads – a modest castle, roofed in the modern style, rose on a mound to the south, while from what seemed to be the centre the beginnings of a soaring belltower stabbed skywards, the great spike of unfinished masonry shrouded in a complicated cage of wooden scaffolds. The low sun threw the gothic stonework of the tower into sharp contrast, its southern face glowing flame-bright against the shadows of its northern side. The new Temple of Sigmar – their destination.

It was their immediate surroundings that Raffy found more pressing, however – though barren, the fields were far from empty. Rows of muddy tents in various states of repair crowded around the road, half-starved children and peasants lifting their heads to watch as the carts rattled past: ahead, where the sprawling camp joined the town, he could see a halo of recently-erected hovels clinging to the outermost buildings, some of them little more than shacks thrown together from reject timber. Many of the tents were crammed with belongings that belonged beneath a solid roof, grim-faced, sunken-bellied men standing watch over furniture and goods that they had dragged with them all the way from towns and villages that no longer featured on any map. There were hundreds of them – young and old, men and women, farmer and townsman – and every one of them looked cold. Cold and hungry.

“Halt!”

The lead cart rattled to a halt. Ahead of them, a gaggle of half a dozen men with a vaguely military look were stepping out into the road, from where they had been sitting on the grassy verge: they had little in the way of a uniform, the white ribbons tied around their left arms their only uniting feature. They were armed in the manner of a Free Company, a motley assortment of sabres, rusted polearms and hatchets making up their arsenal – the leader, a yellow-haired man with a full, bristly beard, was leaning on a rusted partisan, looking up at Hans with a pronounced air of trouble. His pale blue eyes flicked quickly over the caravan’s passengers, clearly sizing up these new arrivals with something of a professional interest.

“Morning, Sergeant Halbermann,” said Hans, guardedly.
“Morning,” said the yellow-bearded man, grinning like a cat. “Cart inspection.”
His men had moved up behind him. Looking up at the others, he made a jerking gesture with his thumb, and raised his voice.
“We’re searching these wagons. So you need to get off ‘em.”

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Exeson looks at the men with a doubtful eye. However, he gets up and jumps from the cart, landing in a catlike position. He then offers a hand to help Illiiya down, his other hand snaking it's way to the throwing knife tucked in his belt, not that he expected too much trouble but elves were rarely welcome.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Raffy the Sparrowhawk

(cutting back)

When Lothar shows skill at tending the wound on the side of Raffy's head, the young lad takes an interest. "Sorry Lothar, I didn't know you were something of a surgeon. Certainly is better than waiting for Delberz. The leeches drink to steady their hands and by nightfall they're pretty soused."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On the way to the city Raffy "peasants up" by wrapping his blanket around him like an extra cloak. He seems to exalt in his lower-class status. He was proud of being a burger back when he lived in Delberz and, although the country peasant life never suited him, he certainly doesn't feel he's above it. He's picked up a lot of their mannerisms. He does want to be some kind of hero, but he wears his lower class habits with pride.

When "Sergeant" Halbermann demands an inspection, Raffy jumps lightly to the ground and simply walks away from the caravan. "Watch out for those beast heads, sometimes they still spit," he says casually as he walks away.

Tossing his blanket over his left shoulder so that his gun is visible but his sword isn't, he strolls up to some of the hovel-folk.

"Pardonin' me, but I ain't seen all a you roundabouts last time I was at Delberz. Refuge is it? Where's you are from?"

He tries to keep his tone friendly and small-talkish, switching to a street dialect as he does so.

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Not sure if Fellowship is needed but it's versus 29 if so.

If they're willing to talk, I'll ask a variety of questions like "how long have you been here" "how're the locals treating you" "do the churches help out at all" etc - basically I'm trying to get the full skinny on the shanty town situation, and instead of RPing it out question-by-question I'm just sort of abstracting it here to save time

Last edited by Another_Poet; 2009-12-17 at 10:30 AM.

I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

A sunken-cheeked man looked back up at Raffy.

“Wolfenburg. Or where Wolfenburg used to be.”

He gestured around him.

“People here are from all over. There’s a few hundred of us ‘Burgers, there’s folks from Untergard, Grimminhagen, Schoppendorf, Sokh – them folks closer to the real town are from Middenheim. They got out early.”

“You been here long?” asked Raffy.

“Since the siege. No-one who stayed inside the walls when the Northers arrived got out.”

“They been treating you well?”

“Like you’d expect. The Baron ain’t got enough men to keep order, and the Hounds,” – at this he inclined his head towards Halbermann, lowering his voice so as not to be heard by the sergeant’s men, “they’re in it for what they can grab. Lector von Kemperbad says there’s Chaos among us still. I dun’t know if he’s right, but they sure keep searching. Meanwhile there ain’t no food, and there ain’t no houses. Fluchtling, the noble who owns this land, his men give out bread twice a week, but there ain’t never enough.”

“The churches don’t do anything?”

“The Shallyans from the abbey, down in the Lower Town, they do what they can for folks who get sick. Hand out food, too. They only got so much, though, and the queue goes round the block. Us lot out here on the Fields ha’n’t got much chance of seein’ any of that. The Sigmarites are too busy with their grand temple to do anything for us. That an’ the Hounds, always hunting.”

Raffy glanced sideways at the militiamen, now searching the wagon with a rather officious air.

“I don’t remember any Hounds,” the youth said.

“Hounds of Sigmar. The Lector’s men. Von Kemperbad, he said it were Chaos-worshippers that blew up the old temple, said they never got caught and that... was a stain on our souls as Sigmar-fearin’ citizens of the Empire,” said the man, speaking slowly as if remembering the phrasing by heart. “Next thing, there’s men volunteerin’ to join the Church’s militia, root ‘em out. They say there’s more men in the Hounds than in the City Guard now. The Baron don’t dare tell ‘em what they can and can’t do, neither, not with his new wife so pally with the Lector.”

He coughed, with a rather studied pathos.

“Times is hard, sir.”

Looking down, Raffy noticed the man was holding out an open hand.

[hr]

“All in order, it seems,” said Halbermann, having spent an inordinately long time looking around the sides of the stone blocks. He gave one of the dangling Beastman heads a playful bat with the back of his hand. “Looks like you had a little trouble on the road, eh?”

“That we did,” said Hans, non-committally.

“Well then, that just leaves the matter of the ear tax,” said the sergeant, grinning his feline grin again. “You got a couple of elves, there. Six schillings for each of ‘em, and we’ll say no more, eh?”

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OOC: Raffy and anyone else who has been around this region (unsure about Ithelus & Seth) will know there is no 'ear tax' in Delberz, although such things are not unheard of in the Old World. Halbermann is extorting a bribe.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Raffy

Raffy wants to give generous alms but he's streetwise enough not to go handing over a whole gold piece in plain view of the masses. He slips the man some shrapnel (i.e. small coinage - pennies? silver pieces?) and thanks him for his time. He walks amidst the refugees here and there giving away small coin until he has has donated a full gold crown's worth of hard cash to various people.

He walks up to the cart and hears the Hound asking for a bribe. He smiles affably.

"Aww that's awful generous of you, Sergeant Halbermann," he says. "Six shillings per ear, that's three beast men heads with two ears apiece... If my learnin' don't fail me that's 3 and 6 for us. It's good to see a man of your station making a good example by rewardin' those what keep the roads safe. And yeah, them elves were a great help in the scuffle, you should see the way they can tear up flesh."

The last part is said really slowly. A pause, and then:

"A course there may be some tolls on comin' down this road, huh? I think we'd be willing to forego the ear-reward and call it even with the tolls and taxes."

I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

"They look pretty torn up themselves to me," said Halbermann, his eyes flicking from the elves to Raffy and back. He knocked the dangling heads again. "Must have been a tough fight, the seven of you against the three of them."

He leaned rather more pronouncedly on his polearm, incidentally bringing the weapon's head a little closer to Raffy's face. He spoke with a soft, mocking tone, as if explaining something simple to a child.

"You want to claim the bounty on these beasties, you take the heads to Captain Brucker of the Guard, savvy? What I'm sayin' is here, now, you need to pay us. Eighteen schillings, now. Just 'cos you've made yourself so likeable, mister."

He smiled unpleasantly.

"'Course you can go right ahead without payin' the ear tax if you want to." He made an exaggeratedly solemn face. "But then I'm afraid their ears will have to stay here with us."

The men behind him chuckled. It was not a pleasant sound.

Spoiler

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Intimidate test on Sergeant Halbermann. Calling this on Fellowship rather than Strength, as you're not making a direct physical threat.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Seth is mostly aware of the situation, but he's having trouble discerning the fine details. Attempting to be helpful, and almost bound to fail, he trots up behind Raffy and begins expounding-loudly enough for half the shanty town to hear-"See here, now, is the tax six, or is it nine? Tell us the truth, and your names as well; for I'll be speaking with the authorities when we get into town, and if I find you're swindling us, I can assure you you'll be attempting to rob your next victim from a pillory!"

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

"My name's Dietlief Halbermann - Sergeant of the Hounds of Sigmar," said the man, losing his mocking tone - he was still far from civil, but he knew to treat a man on horseback with at least a minimum of respect. "The tax is what I say it is, and if you don't like it, you can go to the Lector, 'cos we don't answer to no-one else. See if he gives you the time of the day."

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Intimidate (on Fellowship), Very Easy (Halbermann hates the idea of someone going to his bosses): testing against 39/2+30 = 49

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya had stayed quiet for most of the trip, eyes darting warily around her as if following the movement of things that no one else could see. She hunkered close ot Ith and shivered most of the way, looking weary, but too wide eyed to nod off.

-----------

Upon arrival she accepted help down from the wagon, looking about the shanty town warily while the humans talked. She listened intently, somehow not feeling much more comfortable at the presence of the church. She'd heard that people such as her often had as much to fear from zealous humans as any chaos spawn. The man was seeking to extort them, charging them for their mere existence. If she thought paying the man would stop harassment, she would have... but it would only make her a target of more extortion, and she somehow doubted the local guard would step in to protect them in the least.

Instead, she just watched him... eyes focused intently on the man, but at once... not all together there. Her head tilted somewhat to the side as she kept him locked in her disjointed gaze. Short of the infrequent blink, she made no other motions, just watching with her large, inhuman eyes... as if she were waiting for something.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

“That’ll do, sir,” said Halbermann, grudgingly. He pocketed the silver, and stepped aside, shouting for his men to clear a path for the wagon – the refugees who had been clustering round to watch the little confrontation were quickly dispersed, the shouts of the Hounds echoing loud over the subdued hubbub of the sprawling camp. As the passengers re-mounted the cart, Halbermann stepped over to Raffy, giving him an unnerving wink.

“You want to watch your step, lad. No room for troublemakers in Delberz right now.”

Stepping back, he gave one of the carthorses a slap on the rump, starting the cart forward with a rumble of wooden wheels. Behind them, Ithelus could hear the faint rattle of another cart approaching – as the militiamen faded into the distance behind them, he heard Halbermann’s cry of “Halt!” once again, the man’s voice vanishing into the noise of the town as the roofs of Delberz loomed up ahead of them.

The road they were heading down was broad, rutted and busy – handcarts and wagons thronged the thoroughfare, many laden with cargo for Middenheim. Narrow houses that reeked of poverty jostled shoulders with older, more established-looking buildings, overhanging eaves casting the sides of the road into shadow. There seemed to be a proliferation of inns, two on this road alone: passing the second, the carts turned through a cobbled square towards a broad stone bridge, the swollen waters of the Delb gurgling past underneath.

The old town raised its half-timbered walls around them, houses large and small crowding every field of view: crossing the bridge, they passed through a crowd of old buildings into the broad, paved square that Raffy recognised as the Tempelplatz of his childhood. Ahead of them, the new cathedral reared, dwarfing the temples of the other gods – workmen swarmed around it like ants, stone blocks being hoisted up into the spider’s-web of timber and rope that clung to the exterior of the unfinished belltower. Men bearing the white armbands that Halbermann’s men had been wearing stood guard around the great work, doing their best to look attentive.

Approaching the great, arched doorway, the carts rattled to a halt: around a dozen men instantly converged on them, beginning to manhandle the heavy blocks off the back of the wagons. A serious-looking mason with a grizzled beard approached, hailing Hans and Jurgen with an upraised hand – the first coachman called back, then turned to his passengers.

“Your pay will be waiting with Captain Brucker. If you could tell him about the beasts on the road, you’d be saving me a job of work.”
Looking round at Seth, he fished in his pocket, producing a handful of silver.
“I can’t pay you back what that thief took, but I figure I owe you some of it, after how you fellows saved us back on the road.” He placed three schillings in Seth’s hand. “That’s what I can afford.”
He looked pointedly at Jurgen, who shamefacedly produced another four.
“You want my advice, you let it drop. No good’s come yet of fighting the Hounds, and they have enough ways to make life miserable for anyone who tries.”
He swung himself down off the driver’s seat.
“You ought to be able to catch Captain Brucker in the Guard House. Good luck to you.”

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

“You want to watch your step, lad. No room for troublemakers in Delberz right now.”

"If I see any I'll let them know." Raffy gives a flourishing bow to the man and adds, "Name's Plotzik MacGuffin. It's been a pleasure."

He hopes that between having worn his hat the whole time, and giving a false name maybe Halbermann won't be any more trouble for him until Raffy chooses to go after him. That ought to make my name.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Thanks Hans," Raffy says for the advice. He pats Jurgen on the back after the man coughs up a donation toward the elves. "Yer a good man, Jurgen. I'd a run too if all I had was a knife. Don't let 'em give you a hard time."

Turning to the others he'll offer to show them to where the Guard House is, or at least used to be when he was a kid. He makes sure to bring the beastman heads and his gear. He still has his blanket over one shoulder.

Last edited by Another_Poet; 2009-12-17 at 02:14 PM.

I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

The Guard House was a modest brick building, standing to one side of what Raffy called Judge’s Square – although compared to the new Temple, visible even from here, all the public buildings around them seemed modest. The guard on the door was uniformed, unlike Halbermann’s men – he wore a tabard with the Baron’s crest, a helmet and a halberd making up the ensemble.

Heading inside, they found themselves in a bare-walled, rectangular room, doors leading off to either side, away from the large, empty fireplace that sat in the centre of the rear wall. Between them and the hearth, a man sat at a solid-looking desk, its surface littered with various papers: young and well-dressed, with a neatly-trimmed black beard, he looked up at them with a weary expression.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked, his voice carrying the crisp accent of the nobility.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

All the way through the town Ithelus keeps his head down, he had come to understand the ear tax, and to accept it. He bids farewell to the drivers and thanks them very much for the money.

As they arive at the guardhouse he taps Raffy on the shoulder and whispers, 'Appreciated my friend, but next time when my arm is better don't cause such a fuss and I'm sure the coin would.... jump out of his pocket back to it's owner's purse' The meaning is clear, Ithelus is a thief and a pickpocket after all.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Raffy the Sparrowhawk

Raffy's eyes widen in suprise. He sort of does a double-take and then plays the gesture off like it's nothing. He doesn't say anything in response, but nods slightly. He's no thief himself but he wasn't a saint growing up on these streets and he'll never begrudge anyone doing harm to illegitimate "authorities."

I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Illiiya Jaelrae

That man had daemons in him. Illiiya said disjointedly, to no one in particular, He hurts people because he can...

She followed Ithelus through town, her gaze a bit vacant and far off as she looked around at everything they passed along the way. She seemed less concerned over the strange looks that people gave her... but she spoke to no one as Ithelus led her to their inevitable destination.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Lothar had remained quiet during the altercation with the thugs in Sigmar's service. A few schillings in return for slipping in quietly wasn't the worst of prices, and the squire had collected most of it back anyhow. Instead, he contented himself with looking both quietly competent and not worth bothering about. Just another hired escort in a country swarming with veterans of the War, collecting his pay. Nothing to see here.

He puffed on his pipe contentedly. New city, new coins, new dice games, and enough folk around to blend in. Plenty of work to keep me goin' and folk who need helping.

The only note of alarm was the elf witch's ramblings, which were enough to snap him out of a pleasant daydream where he won a small pile of gold in a game. He leaned in close to her just before they stepped into the Captain's office. "I wouldn' say that too loud, hey. That kind of talk attracts questions. Pointed ones."

He frowned at her and knocked tobacco from his pipe against the wall. "Just be careful, I'llya," he added, badly mispronouncing her name.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Having emptied his pipe, the Nordlander swept a half-respectable salute at the soldier on watch before entering Captain Brucker's office at the back of the small group. His swords clanking in the small room, and the blood trickling from his wounded forehead conspired to make Lothar distinctly uncomfortable.

He nudged Seth with his foot, and said in an undertone, "'Ere, Squire. You do the talking. I get all fishlike in front of officers."

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Catching sight of the beastman heads, the man’s eyes widened – he looked back at the group with rather more interest than he had before. Something seemed to click as he scanned their faces, taking in their wounds.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Asked a direct question Ithelus perked up. 'Yes, yes we are! we just got into town and delivered the goods. Who do we collect payment from? For the heads? Also i think a few us might need some medical attention...' He babbles slightly excited. He motions to the various injuries of the party that are surrounded by congealed and in some cases frozen blood.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

“That would be me. My name is Marius von Brucker; I am the commander of the City Guard here in Delberz.”

The man was still staring at the heads.

“Beastmen, then.” He made a noise halfway between a grunt and a sigh, looking up at the party. “We’ve been having trouble with a highwayman – the peasants call him the Wolf. We’d assumed the missing shipments were his doing, although what a bandit would want with four wagonloads of stone is beyond me. This rather changes matters.”

Returning his eyes to the party, he examined them with a critical eye.

“But of course, you want your pay. You have done commendable duty to the city, and you will be rewarded for it.” He opened a drawer, and produced a pouch that sounded like it contained coins. “I believe you were offered a mark apiece for the journey? And three marks for each of these... things, by the Graf’s orders, making fourteen in all.”

He set the money down on the desk – he paused, seemingly deep in thought, as he examined the party once again. With a blink, he snapped back to the here and now.

“I hope you’ll excuse my directness, but you look like a likely bunch,” he said, with typical aristocratic tact. He gestured to the heads. “You’ve proved yourselves more than capable of handling yourselves, too. How would you feel about earning some more? I could offer you a watchman’s pay – two marks a week, and medical expenses, which you look like you’re in need of. This is bad business – something needs doing about it, and I think you might be the men – and women,” he added, with a civil inclination of his head towards Illiiya, “for the job. What do you think?”

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Seth wanders in from tying up his horse around the time Ithelus is confirming that we're the caravan escort.

"Bad business? Town watch? Are you saying there is danger within the town walls?" Seth's eyes look wearily resigned. "If so, then I am certainly your man, though i would nary speak for the others."

"But...with all the guards I've seen about, I would think that they would at least pay for their oppressiveness with the security they were nominally hired for. What could possibly be plaguing this city that their sheer numbers could not deal with?"

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Illiiya Jaelrae

Spoiler

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Heh.... Soooo close. "Elf Witch". Flip those around and you're a little closer. And it's funny as hell! Granted, Illiiya was never a Maibd, but it's pretty funny nonetheless.

Illiiya followed quietly after Lothar scolded her, keeping her head low as she went. When they arrived for the bounty, she payed it no real mind. She usually just gave her share of their spoils to Ithelus, since he always seemed concerned over money. He repaid her with support, protection and new things when she needed them.

Remembering Lothar's words, she stayed quiet when the commander spoke to them all. He gave her less a sense of unease than the other man did, which was something. She seemed to relax slightly, listening to his words quietly as her companions negotiated with the man.

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Just for the record... Illiiya's witch sight is the cause of a lot of her weirdness... hearing things and seeing things that aren't there. Whether they're real or not, who knows? I'd just like to make a note that Illiiya's magic sense skill is used to often in a day that it may as well count as always on. I don't have the book with me, so I forget what that means, but please let me know if anything ever blips on her magic-dar, so she can freak out accordingly.

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

“I take it you’ve met the Hounds, then,” said Marius, nodding back at Seth. “Perhaps I had better explain."

“I’m afraid what you said about the guards is simply untrue. The Guard is undermanned and underpaid, particularly with the new arrivals on the Fluchtling Fields and in the lower town. My men have their hands full just keeping order on the streets. The men you’ve seen are a Sigmarite militia – volunteers calling themselves the Hounds of Sigmar. They work for the Church, at least in name, and their commander is a man who calls himself ‘Sergeant’ Halbermann – he might as well call himself General Halbermann as far as anyone’s given him a rank, but Lector von Kemperbad seems happy to use him as a go-between.”

“They claim their mandate is to hunt out the followers of Chaos that the Lector says are still lurking here. I am as faithful to Sigmar as the next man, but I would say they’re a mob of zealots and opportunists. But I don’t have the power to stop them, because everyone knows that what von Kemperbad says is true – worshippers of the Four blew the old Temple to rubble with our own gunpowder, and we didn’t catch one man. The Lector has a powerful way with words, and my stepmother’s – the Baroness’ ear, and he has many of the common people on the side of the Hounds. When he hears that the shipments were being intercepted by the Children of Chaos, you can be sure he will seize it with both hands. That means the Hounds redoubling their ‘efforts’, and that means more old ladies being beaten in the street for owning a black cat, or being suspected by their neighbours.”

He leaned forwards in his chair.

“That’s where you come in. You’re new in town, people won’t recognise you, and you don’t wear the uniform of a guard – or a Hound. You can get to the bottom of who was to blame for the destruction of the Temple, and whether they’re still here – maybe even catch them and drag them before the courts. If I can present some evidence, show who actually did it, the legitimacy of Halbermann’s lynch mob evaporates, which means a return of real law and order.”

He sat back again.

“I can give you a few leads, but no-one with anything to hide will talk to the Captain of the Guard. You’ll have to work alone, for the most part. But as I said, you’d be paid – and if you succeeded in catching the culprits, I’m sure the city would reward you handsomely.”

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

Seth's teeth are set further and further on edge as Marius explains. "You need not so vehemently affirm your faith to me; I'm well aware that corruption can hide in the church's cloth. I will do whatever it takes to remove these pretenders from power."

"Before we continue, let me phrase the question in reverse: Are there any present who do not wish to aid in this endeavor? If so, then best you go with your coin, and gods bless."

Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight

At hearing the rather worrying explanation Ithelus shrugs. 'I think Illiiya and I will be safer if we keep together with you. Plus the Hounds now owe us some coin, and I'm a man of interest, who believes in interest. And debt carries high interest.' He smiles slyly and play his bone dice between his fingers. His new found confidence can probably be pinned down to the prospect of pay, a group of capable fighters at his back and the opportunity for some.... well, it is obvious really.